Balasevic - Drvena Pjesma & Miholjsko leto? Translation to english (or swedish).

Novice
снимка на leah
Регистриран: 29/04/2012
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Someone, please? I have the song, but no lyrics. Simply the lyrics would be a great start, but a translation would make me even more happy!

The song Miholjsko leto, the same thing. Lyrics someone? Translation?

I love the lyrics I have read so far, like poems with music. If you help me, maybe I can help to translate something in the future. Thanks to those lyrics Ive got the inspiration to start learning slavic language.

/Leah

Moderator
снимка на MayGoLoco
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Here's a lyrics page with most of his songs.

http://tekstovi.net/2,128,0.html

Novice
снимка на leah
Регистриран: 29/04/2012
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Thank you! Smile

Sorry for late answer, but have been out IRL for a week! If someone got translations for the songs, please be my guest!

Moderator
снимка на MayGoLoco
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You should make a translation request on the main site, the songs have already been added by other users for you.

MayGoLoco wrote:
Here's a lyrics page with most of his songs.

http://tekstovi.net/2,128,0.html

Ah, again lyrics without č, š, đ, ž - DISGRACE!
(Have you seen, for instance, German lyrics without ö, ü, ä? Or French without ê, é, è, à, ù...?)

Here's the lyrics with all the letters (except ž in some songs), some songs are 100% correct, some have a few mistakes. Compare the lyrics from different sources (at least three), my advice.

http://www.lyricsmania.com/djordje_balasevic_lyrics.html

Регистриран: 29/05/2012
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Miholjsko leto
(An Indian summer)

Until half past twelve
she was at her piano lesson
then she measured the town with her steps

and gazed at the shop windows on the way
pardon me, her reflections in them..

in her hair was still, just like a laurel
a cadence in moll
a bit of sorcery which ensures
while peaking over the coffee
the coming of him, like the tide

chorus:
The secrets are made for
someones insight in them
there is a word
which is worth only unspoken
God has let a drop of his tea
the glitter covered all
a Plane tree will remain golden
through giggling she is
squeezing her necklace so tight
and he is not trembling, no
it just, comes with the leaves falling
the blessed Indian summer
one and holly, for them

And he wore so proudly
his almost eighteen
he hears 'Sir' more often and often
the White City is beating in his chest
and giving the strokes for his bronze strings
his Lucky one made of glass still in pocket
like a penny for some well
a bit of sorcery for all to vanish
the scoundrel of her to appear
and spill, her hair in his face

chorus:
The secrets are made for
someones insight in them
there is a word
which is worth only unspoken
God has let a drop of his tea
the glitter covered all
a Plane tree will remain golden
through giggling she is
squeezing her necklace so tight
and he is not trembling, no
it just, comes with the leaves falling
the blessed indian summer
one and holly, for them

Like no more than a bum
a bit grayish and a bit old
i halted alone at the corner
not a good one October
and all thoughts in a Russian note key
and then suddenly i realized,
i still love you, just like then
the time is only the wind for the fire
there is an Indian summer in me,
that spiteful sun just before the winter
...ah, cmon...

Регистриран: 29/05/2012
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Drvena Pesma
(The Wooden song)

Tonight i dreamt of a thing, i could never get over
my little wodden ponny,
a little string and the wheels sound, willow's bell
behind me, my faithfull Sancho
in the quest, for unrest

I dreamt also of my first ol guitar
as a lady of the night
from the south of Amsterdam
from the shops window she's seducing the kid of me
leading me to the capital of sins

Where has that tree grown
from which she was made
had under it anybody
ever kissed

Why is in it the source
of all my songs
has he knew it
the one which carved it

where has that tree grown
on the top of which hills
has the same rain
watered the young of us

who has cut his branches
damn, the mother of him..
whose hand the leaves
of autumn have burned, i would just like to know

Then i dreamt of a bed, all laced
the sinister tingling of fire, windows closed
the carved rose over the head
just under which we held each other

i dreamt then of a black wodden box, edged in silver
a november, some mist and four dear faces
like a little boat in a raining harbour
carying me into, forever...

Where has that tree grown
againt which of winds
has anyone under it
missed anyone else

why has the lightning missed it
damn the mother of Peter...
who spat in his hands
and brought it down ?

My only dearest one, why have you awaken me
i was so close to the other side of the time
there is one tree hiding in mine chest
where will that seed grow something,
i would just like to know....

Really rushed and without any spellcheck, but i think it is better than google translate.
Enjoy, from a big fan of Balasevic and those two songs.